


Gardening

by feyrelay



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 1000 Words Challenge, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Counted Word Fic, Drug Use, Europe, Fugitives, Gen, Hannibal Lecter Is His Own Warning, References to Bella Crawford's Illness, Season/Series 2 AU, Short & Sweet, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrelay/pseuds/feyrelay
Summary: In which I attempt gen for the most highly sexualized fandom ever conceived of for a show that used to air on NBC. As one does. 1000 Word Challenge.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier & Will Graham
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Gardening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Affectionary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Affectionary/gifts).



> I reserve the right to one day expand on this idea in a less-gen direction, preferably involving Will and Bedelia using each other as sexual proxies for Hannibal, the way he and Will used Alana Bloom as an emotional proxy for each other. There will probably be threesomes if it ever happens. For now, though, enjoy.

The plan _had_ been for Will to clear his own name. He was going to enlist Beverly’s help, he was going to outsmart the devil like Daniel Webster himself. He was going to use Chilton, who truly deserved it, and even Freddie if Will could be bothered to deal with the particular level of aggravation she engendered, wearing his patience thin as she often did, thin as a red cunt hair.

But du Maurier is pulled away from the bars of his cell, leaving behind just the pale flash of her hair around the corner and a slight sillage of floral perfume. It’s barely perceptible over the smell of piss from the other inmates and their unending, collective quest to render useless all the white lines Chilton cared to have painted.

Will’s special power being stepping into the shoes of his quarry, Will steps into Hannibal’s brogues for a turn about his cell, and knows. He _knows._

Hannibal would follow that perfume like a hunting hound. So too must Will.

***

Will isn't sure if Hannibal has ever genuinely considered his own psychiatrist to be a real person, to be a beautiful, educated, capable woman in her own right. He isn't sure if Hannibal is capable of looking at the gorgeous kitchen—with its wall of artfully spaced, live, culinary herbs on display—and understanding that Bedelia du Maurier might not keep those here for him. 

Hannibal, Will thinks, might not realize that the good doctor herself _also_ needs to eat. Even when Hannibal isn't there to feed her. Even when he cannot see her. Even once, her beauty be damned, Hannibal has made her so careful of eggshells under her heels that she barely sees anyone and barely leaves her own crystal palace of a home.

That's okay. Will is rapidly becoming used to not being sure of things.

Looking in through the kitchen window once more, Will is satisfied that the house has been abandoned due to the way the fridge and freezer are emptied and unplugged, doors left open to air out what Will imagines to be bleach fumes.

It’s what he’d do, after all, if he had ever taken a meal prepared by Hannibal Lecter and kept it in his house.

Will likes this; it’s hard for him to picture du Maurier here, scrubbing away. She seems too clean to do any cleaning herself. But she also seems too controlled to leave it to someone else. The contradiction makes Will want to seek her out.

He shouldn’t stay here, regardless. The hospital will have reported his escape.

Besides, unlike Hannibal, Will is still aware that practitioners like Dr. Bloom and Dr. du Maurier are worth more than just groundcover to disguise bloody tracks. Will is still a man and he has a mission; his resolve redoubles to know that there's someone out there who believes him.

Now he just has to track her down.

***

Will finds the blonde woman who is his only truly informed ally in the world, in Andorra. He almost can’t believe it when he sees her again, after only three months of searching.

He’d gotten cash from Bella, of all people, someone who both believed him and knew well her husband’s capacity for well-intentioned folly. Will had come to her, and said, “I’m sorry you’re dying and I’m sorry you’re dying within a hundred-mile radius of Hannibal Lecter, do you want to go to Italy with me and die there?” He’d been sweating.

She’d looked at him and then pursed her lips over her checkbook. “You go without me. Meet a beautiful woman and don’t you dare make the mistake of bringing her back here.”

Will had kissed her hand and apologized for potentially having frightened her.

Her mouth had quirked, even as she took in a hit of medical marijuana. “Nothing scares me right now, Mr. Graham. Although, now that I think on it, let me write you a list of countries with no extradition treaty with the US. Just in case Italy is too hot to handle, just now.”

Will, who had forgotten that Bella was former U.N. and quick as a jewel-eyed viper, was shamed. He’d taken the list, written alphabetically no less, and left her to her peaceful mortality with his thanks. It’s clearly what she wants, and Will is determined to not take in so much of Hannibal in hunting him that he forgets that people deserve self-determination.

In the here and now, confronted with a woman of different but equal beauty to that of Bella Crawford née Phyllis, Will resolves to not make the same failure of underestimating such a woman.

“Doctor,” he exhales as he settles into the empty bistro chair next to her. The wind rustles the small plant on the table in front of them, and the air turns herby.

***

Things get a little weird after Dr. du Maurier takes Will in. For one thing, he’s never drunk so much wine in his life, but it’s the only alcohol she allows him and Will is his daddy’s son. She arranges for him to receive immunoglobulin therapy, which helps immensely. There are medications he has to take, but it’s less than he would have had foisted upon him in the United States, she explains. Chiefly, she points out, his particular brand of atypical neural architecture wouldn’t have responded well to the standard antipsychotics. Will can’t say he disagrees.

He does, however, ask if it’s really alright to be taking pharmaceuticals and fermented fruits in such equal measure.

“In the long term?” she clarifies. “Probably not. But you know that Hannibal will kill us both before too long.” She smiles evenly. “We might as well live while we can, don’t you agree?”

Because he is a fugitive and she his patroness, Will does agree.

The wine puts him to sleep at night, and he almost doesn’t hear the low voices talking in Bedelia’s bedroom.

Almost.

The next morning, Will wakes to sizzling eggs and sausage.

**Author's Note:**

> I hunger for feedback as Hannibal does for flesh. And suit jackets.


End file.
